Chapter 8
Ali
Ali's phone had been ringing nonstop for three hours, and each call made the knot between her shoulders tighten a little more.
Seven figures. Ali stared out the windshield at the convoy stretched ahead of them, at the civilian vehicles that had joined their cause, at the werewolf community they were racing to save.
A week ago, she'd been worried about making rent.
Now publishers wanted to throw money at her for documenting what was becoming the biggest civil rights story of the decade.
"That's great, Scott," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.
"Great? Ali, this is career-making. You're not just documenting a story anymore—you ARE the story. The photographer who exposed systematic medical discrimination against supernatural communities."
Tim's hands tightened on the steering wheel, and Ali caught the sharp change in his scent.
"I need to go," Ali told Scott, ending the call.
"Seven figures," Tim said.
"It's just money."
"It's never just money." Tim checked his mirrors, but Ali could feel his attention focused entirely on her. "That's an offer that could change your whole life."
"My life already changed." Ali reached for his hand, but Tim shifted to adjust the radio, avoiding her touch. The rejection stung more than it should have.
Her phone rang again. This time it was a number she didn't recognize.
"Ms. Franklyn, this is Deputy Attorney General Sarah Martinez. I'd like to discuss a proposition that could benefit both your convoy and the broader supernatural community."
Ali's magic activated involuntarily. Golden threads of light wound around her fingers. Through their mate bond, she felt Tim's instant alertness, his protective instincts surging.
"What kind of proposition?"
"We're prepared to offer full immunity to all convoy participants in exchange for your cooperation in a federal investigation into Sheriff Cottonmouth's activities. Your photographs and testimony could help us build a case against systematic corruption in supernatural community policing."
Tim pulled the truck over so abruptly that Ali had to brace herself against the dashboard. His scent had gone sharp with territorial fury, and she could see the golden flecks expanding in his dark eyes.
"Put it on speaker," he growled.
Ali hesitated, then complied.
"Ms. Franklyn? Are you still there?"
"I'm here. What exactly would cooperation involve?"
"Testimony before a federal grand jury about Sheriff Cottonmouth's activities. Documentation of the medical supply interdiction scheme. And we'd need Mr. McGraw to surrender himself as the convoy leader to demonstrate that federal authorities are taking appropriate action."
"Surrender himself?" Ali couldn’t believe this was happening.
"It would be purely symbolic. Minimal charges, probably community service and a fine. But politically, we need to show that there are consequences for organizing unauthorized convoys, even in service of legitimate medical needs."
Tim was already shaking his head before the deputy attorney general finished speaking. "No deal."
"Mr. McGraw, this arrangement would protect the other convoy members while allowing Ms. Franklyn to become a powerful advocate for supernatural civil rights. She could do tremendous good on a national platform."
"I said no deal."
Ali stared at him. A soft amber glow pulsed beneath her skin as the implications sank in. This was exactly the opportunity she'd dreamed of—a chance to make real change instead of just documenting problems. But Tim was dismissing it without even discussing it with her.
Just like Cottonmouth always had.
"Ms. Franklyn," the deputy attorney general continued, "perhaps you'd like to consider this privately? We're not asking for an answer today."
"She doesn't need to consider anything," Tim said. "We're not interested."
Ali ended the call and turned to face him. "We?"
"What?"
"You said we're not interested. Since when do you make decisions for both of us?"
"Since I'm trying to protect you from making a mistake that could destroy your life," he gritted out.
"My mistake?" Ali. "Tim, this is the chance I've been working toward my entire career. A platform to actually help supernatural communities instead of just taking pictures."
"By throwing me under the bus."
"It's symbolic charges. Community service and a fine."
"Ali, you don't understand how the system works. They'll use me as a scapegoat, make me the face of everything that's wrong with 'unregulated supernatural activity.' Once they have me, they'll find reasons to keep me."
"So what's your solution? Hide for another twenty years? Keep delivering medical supplies in secret while communities suffer?"
"If that's what it takes to keep you safe."
"What if I don't want to be safe?" Ali's voice cracked with frustration. "What if I want to fight?"
"You want to fight? Fine. But not like this. Not by putting yourself in the middle of a federal investigation where you'll be torn apart by lawyers and politicians who'll use your testimony to advance their own careers."
Ali stared at him, seeing not her mate but another man trying to control her life for her own good. "You don't get to decide that for me."
"I'm not deciding anything. I'm trying to make you see reason."
"Reason?" Ali laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Tim, three days ago you were ready to risk everything to deliver medical supplies. Now you want me to walk away from a chance to fix the system that creates these problems in the first place."
"Because I love you." The words came out rough, desperate. "Because watching you get destroyed by federal prosecutors and media scrutiny would kill me."
"And watching you sacrifice yourself to protect me is supposed to make me feel better?"
Tim’s hands gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him anchored. When he finally spoke, his voice was so low she almost missed it.
"Maybe you should take the deal."
Ali's magic sputtered and died. "What?"
"The book deal. The platform. The chance to make real change." Tim still wasn't looking at her. "You could do more good in a year with national media attention than this convoy will accomplish in a decade."
"Without you."
"Without me."
The words hung between them like a death sentence. The mate bond sent jagged bolts of pain through her entire body.
"Is that what you want?" she asked.
"What I want doesn't matter. What matters is that you deserve better than hiding in a truck with a cryptid who can't even show his face without causing an international incident."
"Don't." Ali's voice shook with fury. "Don't you dare tell me what I deserve. I spent my entire childhood being told what I deserved by men who thought they knew better than I did."
"This is different."
"How? How is this different from Cottonmouth deciding I wasn't strong enough to handle the truth about supernatural communities?
How is this different from Derek deciding I was too weird to meet his business partners?
" Ali's magic was building again, but this time it felt dangerous, unstable.
"You're doing the exact same thing they did.
Making decisions about my life without consulting me. "
"Because I'm trying to save you from a mistake that could destroy everything you've worked for."
"No, you're trying to save yourself from having to watch me choose something other than you."
The accusation hung between them like a living thing. Tim finally looked at her, and the pain in his eyes made her want to take the words back. But she couldn't. Because they were true.
"Maybe that's the same thing."
The CB radio crackled with urgent chatter, but Ali barely heard it over the sound of her heart breaking.
Through their mate bond, she could feel Tim's anguish, his desperate love, his absolute certainty that he was doing the right thing.
But she could also feel his fear—not of federal prosecutors or media scrutiny, but of her.
Of the choice she might make if given the freedom to make it.
"Pull over," she said.
"Ali—"
"Pull over and let me out."
"I'm not letting you walk away in the middle of nowhere."
"You don't get to let me do anything anymore." Ali's magic exploded outward, shorting out the truck's electrical system and plunging them into sudden silence. "You want to protect me? You want to save me from making mistakes? Then give me the space to make my own decisions."
Tim guided the powerless truck to the shoulder, his movements mechanical. When they stopped, Ali could hear her own heartbeat in the sudden silence.
"This isn't how I wanted this to go," Tim said.
"But it's how you planned it to go." Ali grabbed her camera bag and reached for the door handle. "The moment that call came in, you were already figuring out how to get rid of me."
"I wasn't—"
"You were. Just like you've been making decisions for me since the moment we met. Where I sit, where I sleep, whether I get out of the truck during confrontations." Ali's laugh was bitter. "I thought it was protective. Turns out it was just controlling."
"Ali, please. Don't leave like this."
She paused with her hand on the door, looking back at the man she'd fallen in love with. He looked lost, younger somehow, like a boy who'd just broken his favorite toy and didn't understand why it wouldn't work anymore.
"I love you," she said. "But I can't be with someone who loves me so much he's willing to destroy us both to keep me safe."
The mate bond stretched between them like a rubber band as she climbed out of the truck, pain radiating through her chest with each step she took away from him. By the time she reached the convoy vehicles that had stopped behind them, she was doubled over with the physical agony of separation.
Luna was there in seconds, her werewolf senses probably picking up the distress from a mile away.
"What happened?" the alpha asked.